


truth be told

by wollfgang



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Post Welcome Back Charlotte Richards, because charlotte deserves to know what happened to her, post 3x05, the ending scene we needed, the one charlotte deserved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 19:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang
Summary: Lucifer looks over at her, Charlotte, her whole manner threaded through with distress as she stares out into the cityscape. An innocent. He swallows a large mouthful of wine and comes to a decision. He won't be like his father. He refuses to be one of the forces playing games with her.She deserves the truth.





	truth be told

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chee/gifts).



> for chee who was mad that Lucifer didn't tell Charlotte the whole truth

Lucifer looks over at her, Charlotte, her whole manner threaded through with distress as she stares out into the cityscape. An innocent. He swallows a large mouthful of wine and comes to a decision. He won't be like his father. He refuses to be one of the forces playing games with her. 

She deserves the truth.

“Right,” he says. “After a day like this I think you're owed the whole story.” He shores up his resolve.

She turns and looks at him. “There's more?” she asks a bit bleakly. 

“You’ll probably want to have a seat,” he tells her, walking towards the couch. She follows him and takes a seat beside him. “And you might want to have more of that,” he adds with a nod to her wine glass. 

“Is it that bad?” Charlotte tries to put on a brave smile, but it wobbles at the edges. 

Lucifer hesitates. He’s not very good at understanding the emotional limits of others, if this will prove to be too much for the woman, the thing that finally breaks the fragile grasp on her identity. Perhaps he should have called Linda before deciding. 

“I wasn't sure if I should - you've already been through so much, and the human mind tends to not handle knowledge of these things well. I don't want to do more harm than good,” he says honestly. 

Charlotte reaches out and touches his knee, bringing his flow of words to a halt. “Tell me,” she says, eyes intent. “Please.”

He blows out a breath. “When you think about - about when you died and where you went, the experiences you had there, I need you to believe it happened. That Heaven and Hell, it's all real. And when I tell you that I am _Lucifer_ , I need you to know it's the truth.” 

“Okay,” she replies. 

He blinks, stumped. “Okay?” That was far too easy. 

“Okay,” she repeats. She sits back just a bit, studying him. “Do you have any proof to substantiate your claim?” 

He stares at her for a moment. Then he shakes himself. Right, _lawyer_. “I do,” he says slowly. “But I don’t want to frighten you. We can stop this conversation right here.” 

“No,” she says, her eyes going suddenly glassy. “I need to know.” 

“Very well,” he answers. She watches him get slowly to his feet and stand. He feels surprisingly nervous. He did this with Linda, but anxiety still jitters in his muscles. “You mustn’t touch,” he says sternly. Then he reaches to that spiritual place where his wings reside and unfurls them. 

Charlotte’s mouth goes slack, but there is no sudden bouts of devotion or weeping and for that he is grateful. He mantles them slightly and does a slow spin, proving that there’s no harness, no gimmick. Charlotte looks and takes a large gulp of wine. 

Lucifer vanishes his wings with a roll of his shoulders and cautiously retakes his seat. She doesn’t flinch away or look too terrified. 

“Charlotte?” he asks tentatively. He twists his fingers together in his lap. 

She inhales slowly. “I - I thought the devil was red with-” she makes a gesture to the top of her head, apparently indicative of horns. 

“I am. I was,” he says. “My true face, my devil face, is currently beyond my reach, and instead I’ve been given back -” This time he gestures loosely to his shoulders. “But that’s - that’s not important right now,” he fumbles. He takes a deep breath and focuses. “Charlotte, when you died someone very powerful escaped Hell and took over your body.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows crease up. “What?”

“That’s why you’re missing months of time, _you_ literally weren’t here on earth. Someone was in your place.”

“Who.” Charlotte demands, and it’s enough of a tone like his mother that his spine straightens. 

He gives her a lopsided smile. “My Mum. Goddess of all creation. She got up to some mischief while she was here, and for that I do apologize.” 

“You said we were like family,” Charlotte says slowly, realization flooding over her. “I was your _mother_?” 

He nods. “For a short time.”

“Where is she now?” Charlotte asks, shoulders curling forward in a subconscious effort to protect herself. 

“Gone.” Lucifer is quick to assure. “And she won’t be coming back. Your body is your own, Charlotte.” 

She relaxes, but only slightly. “She _ruined_ my life,” she states, voice sharp. 

Lucifer nods a bit sadly. “I know. I’m going to make reparations to you, I promise.” He can feel the weight of the words as they leave his tongue. His word is his bond, after all. “Whatever you need, you can ask of me.” 

“My kids?” she says, sounding suddenly hopeful. 

“You’re an accomplished lawyer in your own right, Charlotte,” he says, “But there are a few favors I could collect, a few strings I could tug.” 

Her whole body goes abruptly loose and she buries her face in her hand. He’s afraid she will begin crying. He’s not very good at navigating the emotional minefield of a crying woman, usually resorting to sex in an attempt at consolation. Which is a no go in this situation, for a myriad of reasons. He clears his throat and shifts awkwardly.

“Is there anything else?” 

“I have - there’s a scar.” She presses a hand to her abdomen. 

“You were stabbed. A man named Chet.” Lucifer explains. 

“Bianca Ruiz’s son?” She asks, brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Yes,” Lucifer confirms. “Quite handily, there was an nearly all powerful goddess underneath your skin, so no lasting damage was done. Bianca is in prison and Chet is dead.” 

“I see,” Charlotte says and then downs a substantial amount of her wine. “And Detective Espinoza?”

Lucifer thinks on that for a moment. “At first he was just a pawn to my mother, a source of information. She had no qualms about manipulating him, seducing him. But I think,” he pauses, looking contemplative. “I think she grew rather fond of him in the end.”

“Her favorite human.” Charlotte says the words quietly, eyelashes fluttering. 

Lucifer smiles. “Yes. Just so.” 

“And you?” 

“What about me?” Lucifer returns, eyes unreadable. 

“Why are you here? On earth?” she asks, trying to keep her words from offending, but needing to know the answer bad enough to risk angering the devil. 

Lucifer snorts, not upset in the least. “Well, _you_ know what Hell is like, you were there. It’s awful, millennia of watching humans suffer and torture themselves. The screaming and the begging.” Lucifer’s lip curls. 

Charlotte closes her eyes shut tight. He doesn’t notice. 

“Now, don’t get me wrong, I did my fair share of work on those humans who were truly vile. The personal treatment, if you will. But it’s awful. Always. Incessant. I got sick of it. Left the Infernal Realm and never looked back. Decided to start fresh here in Los Angeles.” He grins at her. 

Charlotte vary carefully places her wine glass on a table, hands shaking. Lucifer’s face falls. “I’m sorry, darling. I’ve said too much,” he says with concern. 

“It’s fine,” she says, tremulous. “It’s just... it was horrible there.” She shudders. 

“I know, being sent there was my punishment as well.” He looks at her with sympathy. “Regardless,” he says. “The both of us are free of the place and neither of us have plans to return.” 

“And now you solve crimes with the LAPD?” Charlotte says, a little incredulously. 

“I do. I’m quite good at punishing the wicked,” he says playfully. 

She flinches. He sighs. Bloody hell, he keeps screwing this up. 

He slowly scoots closer, and takes her hand. She’s cool to the touch like all humans are, so he envelops her fingers in the heat between his palms. “You have a second chance here, Charlotte. Don’t squander it.”

“I won’t. I don’t want to go back.” She grips him tightly. 

“Then you won’t,” he tells her. “I’d put in a good word for you with Dad, but we aren’t really on speaking terms.” He tries to tease a smile from her. 

He’s rewarded with a huff of breath and a small curl at the edge of her mouth. “That's too bad, I'm pretty sure I could use all the help I can get,” she remarks. 

He sobers. “You're a good person, Charlotte Richards.” 

“No,” she replies. “But I'm going to be.” Fiery determination burns in her eyes. 

He offers her a smile. “Well, I’ll drink to that.” 


End file.
